Wandering Child
by Claire Starling
Summary: Who said the past was merciful? Though Christine and Erik want to run from it, the last person they expected bring them back together. Not for Raoul lovers.
1. But in this labyrinth, where time is bli...

**Claire waves** 'Allo, and welcome to my insanity. As you can see this is my first Phantom fiction. I just saw the play last weekend and I am already head over heels for it. Anyway, please review and don't flame me- fire is bad for pyromaniacs like me.  
  
WANDERING CHILD  
  
DISCLAIMER: If I owned Erik you think that I would be writing fanfiction about him?  
  
Chapter One: But in this labyrinth, where time is blind…  
  
  
Excerpt from the diary of Erik-  
  
Although it had been over ten years since Christine left, the pain was still fresh. She was my first and only love and yet… I couldn't hate her, I wanted to but I just couldn't. It was almost pitiful. But how was I to know that my life would change that day?  
  
***  
  
A young girl, barely thirteen, stepped into the Opera house. Her gold, honey-like eyes had a great measure of awe in them, as she gazed upon the beautiful place where her mother once sang. The thought of her mother made her eyes dim. Anyone that had been watching her would have been shocked at the amount of change in the girl in such a small period. Her father had disowned her for playing "demon music" and for refusing to stop playing. It hurt more than the young girl cared to admit, she hadn't seen her beloved brother, Tobias, or her mother, or visited the grave of her sister, Jillian, in months.  
But she was happy she escaped the wrath of her father… she was sure that he would have killed her that night had she not run away. It had taken her two months but she was here, in Paris, for the first time, to ask for shelter from one of her mother's old friend.  
And the thought of her mother made her heart ache at the betrayal. Her mother, once a brave fiery woman, now reduced to a common mother and wife who hung on every word of her "honest" husband. When her father had sent her to her room, screaming at her saying that she better be out by daylight, her mother had stood there, done nothing. She held unto her son and stared. Not one concern for her only LIVING daughters rapidly bruising face or her bleeding lip. The rage spun up. How could she not have seen the monster her husband was! The rage was making her cheeks flush but the girl took deep breaths and calmed the storm inside.   
She walked up to Meg's dressing room, lightly knocking on the door. She hadn't seen Meg since Jillian's death last year. The door opened and when Meg saw the girls bruised and tear-stained face she quickly accepted her into the room and into her life. She knew Meg wanted a story, and the girl hated to have to lie to her but it was necessary. Some stories are not meant to be told.   
And her story was just as sorrow filled as her mothers…  
But unlike her mother, Marguerite Daae, she called herself now- refusing to take her "father's" last name- was strong willed, and would not break quite as easily… or cleanly.   
  
***  
Good? Bad? Okay? I don't know until you review, so whether you think I should burn this embarrassing piece of crap or place a shinny gold star on it and continue- please tell me. 


	2. Sing for me!

Yes I know some really cool author notes used to be here, but some advice from a good fan- you know who you are- lead me to belive that funny a/n in a serious fiction can be distracting. But I promise you- as soon as I'm done with this fiction I'll write a parody for all of you to read bout me and my adventures...  
  
Disclaimer: Which I forgot last time- oops- as if you all didn't know. I DO NOT Own ERIK…  
  
  
…yet.   
  
Chapter Two: Sing for me!  
  
Excerpt from the diary of Marguerite Daae-  
  
I had hidden in my room all of that day for neither Meg nor I thought it wise to show my face. Some had a grudge against my mother, for her bringing of the Phantom. Though Meg has told me he had always been there, the notes from the dear "Opera ghost" had many mentionings to my mother. Many believed it was she who motivated him. Indeed I had heard the tale of this Phantom, but had never actually believed it. But when I crept out that night to watch the rehearsals, my beliefs were changed drastically.  
  
  
***  
  
Marguerite was quietly opening her suitcase. It was barely noon, but Meg had told her to stay in her room. She had thought that it wasn't safe to venture out just yet. It hadn't discouraged the girl, she had known that it would probably come to that. As she popped open the suitcase, she gazed once again at the booklet of music laying on top. "Don Juan Triumphant" gleamed in gold letters on the red cover. She sighed, this is what had gotten her disowned in the first place. Her mother had given it to her for her twelfth birthday. This was "demon music" according to Raoul, her once loving and caring father. But she hadn't packed the music- she wanted to leave it on the piano so mother would remember her after she left for good. But when she had opened her suitcase at the train station, she had discovered a sack of money, fruit, the opera, and a note lying neatly on top.  
  
Marguerite read the note again as her fingers lightly and lovingly traced her mother's perfect cursive.  
  
Marguerite my love,  
  
I know money and food will not make up for the wrong I have done you but I cannot leave your father. I have notified your godmother, Meg, of your coming. Yes, you are going to Paris the place you have dreamed of. Perhaps you will take up where I left off and become the Prima Donna that I never was. You have the heart that I have lost ages ago. Whatever you do, remember I love you. Perhaps when you are famous, my darling, I will be able to convince Raoul to come to a show of yours. But I'm afraid that that probably will not occur until you are older, at least five years from now. I want you to know, no matter what Raoul said, you are still MY daughter remember that. Don't be as foolish as I was. I love you, my unique daughter, do not change.  
  
Forgive me,  
  
Mother  
  
  
Marguerite sighed, she understood what her mother was asking her. Stay outspoken and brave, never become the doll that she had become. Marguerite sighed and started to unpack her things into the two dresser drawers and the small amount of closet space Meg had provided for her. Then she took up the opera again and watched as the magnificent tragedy played out before her eyes, the score ringing in her ears, drowning out everything else.  
  
*  
  
She stretched; it had been ages since she had moved. After eating the small lunch Meg had rushed in, she had taken to reading the current opera at the house, Aida, and then having a light nap. It was now promptly eight o'clock. After relieving herself (*) and checking her appearance in the mirror she snuck out of Meg's room to watch the rehearsal. She watched as Meg gracefully moved across the stage, like a swan. Her purple dress clung in the right places and swirled about her ankles as her legs danced across the stage. Her body flowed like water. She snuck closer. Going row by row until she was as close as she could get without being caught.   
  
As she watched Meg, she took a moment to reflect. This was Meg's last year as a dancer. Her fiancée was going to take her away after this. But where would she go? Meg said that she was planning on adopting her. But she didn't want to leave Paris, she had only just gotten here. Meg was kind, her eyes still shone with a childish innocence that Marguerite still looked for in her own eyes. Meg had started to take to calling her Maggie, the only other person who had ever called her that was Jillian. And that was so long ago…  
  
A light cough escaped from her mouth but she covered it quickly.  
  
**Damn this cold! I have had it for ages and it seems not to want to leave me!**  
  
A light whispering sound caught her attention from box five. "It was strange, Meg had told her that box five had stayed vacant since the "Phantom incident". A flash of white and a burning glimpse of golden eyes was all she could make out from the angle she was at, the shadows concealing the mans form. But in her persistence to see the man, she had lost her footing and landed up knocking over a table of refreshments. Her clumsiness had caused a mixture of cries and screaming of "The Phantom is back!". She heard the rustling from above and looked but he had fully concealed himself in the darkness, everything out of site but his glinting eyes, which were on her.   
  
"It is not the Phantom, it is only a young girl!" rang a strong masculine voice. The form that the voice belonged to started to walk towards her. His brown hair was thinning in the middle, his hazel eyes were kind though frustrated. His mustache and goatee made him looked distinguished. The black suit and white gloves where neat and in place. One of these gloved hands was offered to her. She accepted carefully and stood up straight for the questioning sure to follow. "And who are you, mademoiselle?"  
  
She looked to Meg. She hardly ever lied and she wasn't going to make a habit of it now. "I am Marguerite Daae." She said curtsying. She ignored the gasping, sneers, and glares the prying eyes of the stage. "And yes, I am- was, Christine Daae's daughter."  
  
"Was, child?" he inquired.  
  
"My father disowned me for playing music from "Don Juan Triumphant" and refusing to stop." She looked away. "He said it was demon music."  
  
A few gasps and a snicker from the leading lady were heard but were silenced at the man's command, "Well, never mind that. I assure you none of us are perfect. What do you think of our opera?" He asked, making a gesture behind him to the stage.  
  
"Hm… the movement and organization is good, the dancers are graceful. But the soprano is off key, the tenor doesn't know half the words, the pianist has lazy thumbs, and it appears one of the violinists is having some trouble with his bow." She said simply.  
  
He looked shocked, "You know all of that by listening?"  
  
She shrugged, "My mum always said I had an ear for music."  
  
"So you are Christine Daae's daughter… that means you must be able to sing…?" He said suggestively.  
  
"Oh no, I don't think so. I mean I have sung before but"  
  
"Ah, rubbish. You're being modest. Come." He pulled Marguerite up the stairs to the stage.  
  
"But…"  
  
"No 'buts'. Sing!"  
  
Marguerite knew she was defeated. She looked around. Meg looked nervous, the soprano, Carlotta, was smirking. Marguerite gathered her confidence as she hummed to get into key. Then she opened her mouth and let her voice ring out.  
  
"On my own,  
Pretending he's beside me.  
All alone,  
I walk with him 'till morning.  
Without him,  
I feel his arms around me.  
And when I'd loose my way I'd close my eyes and he has found me."  
  
The whispering was growing louder as her voice became more brilliant with each verse. The voice was unique, most were sure of it. The sound was as sweet as honey yet held the crispness of a dry leaf on an October morning. It flowed easily off her tongue and was indeed the voice of a woman beyond this child's years rising from her throat.   
  
"In the rain,  
The pavement shines like silver.  
All the lights,  
Look misty in the river.  
In the darkness,  
The trees are full of starlight.  
And all I see is him and me forever and forever.  
  
"And I know,  
It's only in my mind,  
That I'm talking to myself,  
And not to him.  
And although,  
I know that he is blind,  
Still I say,  
There's a way for us."  
  
Meg gasped, the young Daae definitely inherited her mothers talent. The voice of an angel rang out of that child's mouth. The voice was haunting to her and it was almost as if she could feel the misery in the air, drifting about her.  
  
"I love him,  
But when the night is over,  
He is gone.  
The river's just a river.  
Without him,   
The world around me changes.  
The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers.  
  
"I love him,  
But everyday I'm learning,  
All my life,  
I've only been pretending.  
Without me,  
His world will go on turning.  
A world that's full of happiness that I have never known…  
  
"I love him…   
I love him…  
I love him…  
…But only on my own."  
  
She took her eyes off the far wall when she heard clapping coming from one set of hands and then moving, spreading like fire, to each set of hands until every person was clapping except Carlotta. Marguerite blushed and looked down, curling her dark hair in-between her fingers.  
  
Finally, the man walked forth again, "How old are you child? You must be at least sixteen…"  
  
"Actually, sir, I am but thirteen."  
  
"Thirteen? That young? Remarkable, a mere child with the voice of a woman. Where have you been staying, child?"  
  
Marguerite looked nervously at Meg who merely nodded. "I am staying with Meg Giry."   
  
"Well that wont do. You should have your own room if you are to be working with us."  
  
The girl peered at this man, not believing what he just said, "Sir?"  
  
"By the way my name is André." He took her hand and kissed it lightly. "You do want to work here, don't you?"  
  
"Well, I believe… yes?"  
  
"Wonderful! Can you dance child?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He looked immensely pleased, "Child, you were built for the opera! I believe your mother's dressing room is still empty. You would like to stay there, no?"  
  
"Why that would be wonderful, but sir- why waste your generosity on me…"  
  
"Because you do need the money and we need your voice- do say yes child."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"Wonderful! Now I'll just have to go over this with my business associate and will get out some papers for you to sign. In the mean time- Meg, darling, show the young woman to her room. As for the rest of you, continue with the rehearsal." He walked out, happily adding up the dollar signs in his head.  
The young girl seemed quite shocked at the fast pace, Meg pulling her gently out of the curious gazes. And helped the young girl move her few valuables, all the while unsure and scared about Marguerites room. The Phantom took Christine from that room, she hoped Marguerite didn't suffer from the same fate.  
  
***  
  
Erik had been bored. He had roused himself from his home to watch the current production being rehearsed. As he was watching, something had caught his attention, a light cough and a flash of a white dress among the red seats of the audience. He looked down among the rows and saw a young girl, crouched in-between the tenth and eleventh row of seating. She looked like… no, he couldn't bear to think…  
  
She saw him… but it wasn't her- it wasn't Christine. But the eyes, which had locked unto his, were his own staring back at him. They reflected wonder and suspicion but she had forgotten where she was walking and had crashed into a table, sending both the table and herself tumbling, breaking the eye contact.   
  
He listened in on the conversation and was shocked at what he heard. Each word coming out of the young girl's mouth sent a new wave of surprise crashing through his mind. This girl, Marguerite, was Christine's daughter. And she had been disowned for playing the music he had written. For playing music, how absurd. He seemed to damn the people he loved even in memory.  
  
She obviously had a talent for music to be able to pick things out as such. But his Christine had a daughter… And oh god- it was with that insolent boy! His heart squeezed with the forgotten pain. But all coherent thought left his head as he heard the child's voice ring out. Like her mother's, her voice entranced him. It was lower in key than her mothers, but beautiful non-the-less. The song she had sung had touched him. It was as if she had sung his love life from a different point of view. And it seemed as if she contained the pain as well.  
  
It's true, though, her voice was not perfect. Nothing a little teaching couldn't change. And when he heard the room that Marguerite was taking up he could have laughed. He knew then and there that the Angel of Music was back in business.  
  
~*~  
  
And that my kiddies is the end of this chapter. Oh by the way the song is from Les Mis (duh) called On My Own. I've loved that song for all time and I couldn't help but make that the song she sang. Anyway- review please while I sort out the mess that is my brain.  
  
Oh by the way (*) was for the fact that I noticed no characters ever seem to go to the bathroom- maybe they don't drink anything? 


	3. Somewhere inside... hiding...

Okay just so you all know... I LOVE PHANTOM!!! tee hee **gives a crazed look and then runs off laughing insanely** She's singing to bring down the chandeleir! I finished the book! Susan Kay you're next!  
  
Disclaimer: No they don't belong to me… **runs off crying**  
  
Chapter Three: Somewhere inside… hiding…  
  
Excerpt from a letter to Christine written by Meg Giry-  
  
Oh, Christine- you would be proud to see your daughter. It seems that the Angel of Music has found her as well. Christine, though her career seems to be blossoming I suspect all is not well with young Maggie. Sometimes, I see her and she is fine. Where as other times, she looks so ill. I believe that she is ill, Christine- and that she has been trying to hide it. I know that she has only been here for six months and only has been away from you two for a year but, Christine, I fear for the young one. Perhaps, even for a day you must come to us. She doesn't look well Cherie, I wouldn't ask you to risk such if it wasn't.  
  
***  
  
A cough echoed out before Adrienne started to sing again, sharing her confused thoughts through song.  
  
"How come love is so strange,  
not simple.  
Why can't life just be easy?  
How can it be,  
That love, does fail me.  
I feel so small  
And cri"  
  
"NO NO NO!" A shout cuts through the scene as Monsieur Reyer comes on stage. He looks at Marguerite and scolds her:  
  
"Child we are here to act, not stare into space…" he kept talking.  
  
Meg could sense something was wrong today- just by looking at the glassy shine on her eyes- she knew- she knew…  
  
Marguerite felt dizzy and quite ill, worse than usual. She felt on fire but a chill kept biting at her spine, sending fingers of nausea to her stomach. It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe.  
  
"Marguerite! Wake up, girl!" she couldn't make out anything he was saying past that point.  
  
He pulled her to her feet and started to drag her to a different position. But what Reyer didn't realize was that he was making her world spin faster.  
  
"What…?" She murmured, dazed.  
  
Everything blurred and dimmed, spots appearing on what was left of her vision. The world lurched and she had the distinct urge to hold onto the ground…  
  
**Oh, mama. I wish you were here.**  
  
…and her knees gave out beneath her and…  
  
Erik was confused. His young pupil, whom he had visited several times from behind the mirror, wasn't showing any of her usual glamour today. He couldn't see much from his position but he could tell something was wrong. His determined young student was so- distant.  
  
He decided the only way he was going to see anything was to get a closer look. He stood in the shadows, in one of the various exits to the auditorium. That's when he noticed. Her eyes were glazed over; her skin was glistening from fever, not from the extremely hot lights that were, no doubt, not making it any better. He had the distinct urge to scream out "Fools, she is ill!". Her steps were wavering as the rude director tore her from her spot to center stage spewing directions. He forced himself to cling to the shadows as he watched Marguerite collapse- almost landing on her face, but that idiotic director finally did something right and caught her.   
  
A loud chorus of mixed reactions came from the cast. Erik was concerned for Marguerite, and was angered that he couldn't go see what was wrong. He simply watched as Reyer shooed away the various gawking ballet rats as he called over a guard. After ten minutes, Marguerite was at her destination of her room while shouts of "call the doctor" still echoed throughout the halls. Meg had followed the guard out of the room but Reyer had stayed behind.  
  
"What are you all staring at? Scene three, Maestro- the ballet- now!"  
  
Erik would have laughed at the irony of the words, reflecting back to a time far too long ago when Carlotta was croaking. He shook his head as a dismissive gesture and followed suite to Marguerite's room.  
  
*  
  
Erik was pacing. He had gone to her room to discover they had started to undress her. He had then come down to his lair wait; it had been an hour now, long enough for him. He went up to his position behind the mirror to watch and listen to the current events. He saw the doctor inject something into the dreaming Marguerite and step back. He walked over to his bag, a silence forming that just screamed 'something is wrong'.  
  
"Well?" said Meg anxiously.  
  
" I'm afraid that Mademoiselle Daae is seriously ill."  
  
**I could have told you that** Erik thought.  
  
"Will she be all right? I mean, if we get her some medicine and-" Meg said frantically.   
  
He just shook his head sympathetically, "No, I'm afraid not. Marguerite has gotten consumption. From the looks of it, she has had it for quite some time now. She doesn't have much longer, two weeks. A month at most. I'm sorry, it's horrible to see one so young die."  
  
"But what about medications?" Meg asked.  
  
"It would only prolong it a week or so, not cure it."  
  
"I understand," Meg sobbed. "Good day, sir."  
  
He opened the door, "My condolences." And left.  
  
Suddenly, Marguerite who had only been shifting uncomfortably in her sleep was now tossing and turning violently. She was crying out, "Mama! Mama! I need you Mama!"  
  
Meg, who was scared, tried to calm her down by stroking her hair. "Sh, sweetie, it's okay. Sh, now don't cry."  
  
Her eyes opened slightly, "Mama?"  
  
"No, sweetie. I'm afraid she's not here."  
  
"Meg?" she asked, realizing.  
  
"Yes, it is I."  
  
"Oh Meg, you must write Mama a letter, she needs to know of my condition. That I - I mean- I think that I am dying, from consumption." She lifted her hand when Meg attempted to speak. "No, you have to tell her. And tell her that the Angel of Music will keep me company until she comes. Tell her, Meg. Promise me that you'll tell her. Promise!" She grabbed Meg's arm, a threatening gaze burning in her eyes.  
  
Meg had never seen Marguerite so angry or aggressive, it frightened her. "I promise, little one. I promise."  
  
Marguerite's gaze and grip immediately softened and she smiled but a cough took her by surprise, wheezing where she should be breathing. Meg handed her a handkerchief and rubbed her back until the violent coughing slowed to a stand still. Marguerite pulled away from the handkerchief, wincing at the bloodstains that polluted the once white cloth.   
  
"Sorry," she said drowsily, already snuggling back into the covers.  
  
"Maggie?" Meg said, worried.  
  
Marguerite smiled softly. "Don't worry, I'm not giving in yet, I'm just a little tired. With some rest, I'll be right as rain in the morning. Just write that letter and send it as soon as possible." Her eyes shut and she was asleep within minutes.  
  
Meg smiled at the sleeping child that was automatically pulled into a frown, "Poor child." She left then to write a certain letter to a special someone.  
  
*  
  
She's dying? He's going to loose another Daae? No, he had some healing books from his Persian friend; maybe there was something in there. And they are just leaving her there, all alone, tossing and turning under five blankets.   
  
**That wont do… well Erik, at least this time you tried to avoid taking them down below.**   
  
He pushed the button and the mirror swung open, permitting him access to the occupied room. The violent tossing had started along with the whimpering. And as if by impulse, he reached out and touched her arm. He hadn't even realized he did it until she slowed her movements. She hadn't flinched from his cold touch, it actually calmed her. The whimpering was still evident though and he took the young girl into a fatherly embrace.  
  
"Sh…" he started to hum a wordless lullaby.  
  
The whimpering stopped and she relaxed completely, going into a dead slumber. He loved this girl he knew, he was doomed to love the Daae's. But it wasn't like the way he loved Christine, it was more like he loved her as a father would a daughter. She had crept under his skin without him noticing and settled into his heart as if she always belonged there.   
  
**I'm getting soft.**  
He smiled at that thought, lifting the light youth from her bed still wrapped in the blanket. He carried her oh-so-carefully past the mirror which closed gently behind them.  
  
~*~ 


	4. Let the dream descend...

Lalalalalalala- Oh howdy folks. Sorry this took so long to write out but two major things happened to me. An email- which made me go back and change a few things that if you have not dully noted then you might get a little bit confused. And two- while I was on my tenth page of writting I decided to quit for the day. Then, the next day, when I went to open it I clicked the icon instead of going to file- open and accidentally clicked "Save as" without noticing so when I clicked to open my file- guess what I did? That's RIGHT, kiddies- I saved a blank document over all my work and lost the whole entire chapter I had been working on! Ah- anyway- I've worked hard on it and I hope you like it.  
  
  
Disclaimer: blah blah blah….  
  
Chapter Four: Let the dream descend…  
  
A memory of Christine's-  
  
"Papa, what is that?" said a seven-year-old Christine pointing at the red-rimmed moon.  
  
Daae stops playing the violin to gaze upon what his daughters tiny finger is pointing at. When he sees it, he frowns. "That is blood on the moon, Christine. I means something bad will or has happened."  
  
"Oh papa, will anything bad happen to us?" innocent Christine asked.  
  
"I sure hope not, honey," he picked up his violin. "I sure hope not." He began to play.  
  
*  
  
Christine gazed up at the yellow moon, which was rimmed with an orange red ring.  
  
"Blood on the moon," whispered she into the dark, silent night.  
  
~ Something bad will or has happened ~… to Marguerite. Her mothers gut twisted with the knowledge she felt, she knew… something…  
  
"CHRISTINE!" A voice slurred.  
  
**Oh no…**  
  
Something was happening and it wasn't good.   
  
The door crashed open and there he was, her wonderful husband.  
  
He pointed a wavering finger at her, "You fucking whore! I'm gonna teach you a lesson for cheatin' on me!"  
  
He shot out at her and grabbed her arm. He practically threw her on the bed and he pulled his fist back…  
  
**Oh, maybe it wont be that bad…**  
  
*  
  
An hour later he was out until noon the next day. Still cautious though, Christine slipped out of his arms, out of their silk silver sheets, out of their room, and onto their balcony. She looked down at the white marble at her bare feet; it was cold. But that was okay, the white railing beneath her hands was too. She looked back into her room, it was well furnished. It had white chairs, white carpeting, and white walls. Everywhere white white white, to cover the evil darkness that really lurked within. It made her sick.  
  
She sat down in the wicker chair in the corner of the balcony to look out at the lush green fields below. The grass was covered lightly with frost. Wait, of course it is, it's mid-December. Almost Christmas…  
  
**When did things get so bad?**  
  
She could remember the first time she had seen Raoul so VICIOUS…  
  
Christine was sewing in the study. She sat in front of the fire in her velvet lavander dress sewing away in her favorite maroon chair, in their study. And everything was perfect.  
  
*CrasH*  
  
patpatpatpatpatpatpat  
  
Christine got up and stepped into the hallway to see what all the noise was about. A six-year-old Marguerite was bounding down the hallway, Raoul in harsh pursuit. But her blue dress was swaying a bit too low and her slippers were a bit too slick on the tile floor and she slipped. She got up quickly, but not quick enough to avoid Raoul's fist on her face. She was knocked into a near-by wall. Christine shied back into the room, head sticking out enough to see the rest of the occurrences. Marguerite attempted to get up on her hands and knees but Raoul kicked her in the ribs. That's when Christine broke out of her shock enough to make pretend she just stepped out of the study.  
  
"What's going on here?"  
  
Raoul looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Well, you see Marguerite tripped and crashed into a statue. I attempted to help her up but she got scared and ran into this hallway where she slipped again. Isn't that right, Maggie?" He turned to be verified by his eldest daughter, but she wasn't there.  
  
The sound of the front door shutting downstairs brought Raoul to the window at the end of the hallway. He watched Marguerite's tiny figure retreat into the snow infested ground in her light dress and cloak and seemed to wake from a dream.  
  
"She'll freeze," he whispered. He went downstairs, put on his heavy cloak and followed, once more, in pursuit of her.   
  
Christine waited in the window until two figures magically appeared. Raoul came up the steps shouting "call the doctor". Marguerite was unconscious in his arms, wrapped in Raoul's dark cloak, shaking, wet, and turning a light shade of blue. Whether it was from the cold or the bruise that was forming there, Christine was not sure.   
  
Taking command, Christine redirected Raoul into Marguerite's room. The happy room filled with royal blues and rose reds felt unfit for the situation. Raoul turned his head as Christine stripped their young yet eldest daughter of all her soaking garments and replacing them with a dry nightgown before shoving her under layers and layers of rich blue blankets. Raoul started a fire to warm her. Then they sat and watched.  
  
It took the doctor two hours to get there and an hour for him to check over Marguerite. Christine sat in Marguerite's favorite reading chair while she waited. It was in the study and it fit right in. A birch wood rocking chair. And Christine sat in the chair and waited, rocking back and forth back and forth back and forth…  
  
Jillian, only three, had woken up from her daily nap and had settled silently in her mothers lap, waiting, for her "sissy" to be all better. Raoul had been pacing the whole floor, waiting, for the doctor to motion them in. Christine just rocked back and forth, waiting, to wake up from this horrid dream she was having.  
  
And the doctor emerged. He explained that the "little one" should wait outside because it may be contagious. Jillian was ready to throw a fit until she saw her daddy's face, then she just nodded and went into her room, to wait.  
  
And Christine walked in, and saw her first baby, so pale, so small… she's only five… she's still a baby…  
  
Marguerite's long dark hair contrasted greatly to her pallor visage making her face appear even whiter, if that was possible. The violet surroundings made her seem so small, so lost in the blue waves about her.  
  
The doctor kindly directed them to a cluster of royal blue chairs in front of the fire.  
  
"Could you tell me ever so kindly what happened?"  
  
"Well," Raoul piped up before Christine could even process the question. "You know children. She was running around the house and I told her to stop. She tripped and fell into a statue and I yelled at her for being so careless. She was so scared that she ran off, and went near the little lake we have nearby. I followed her and saw her standing on the ice. I yelled at her to come back but she didn't listen and she fell through."  
  
"Well, that answers a lot of questions. Marguerite has gotten a rash fever from the ice. And the good news is that she should get better."  
  
"Oh thank the saints," said Raoul sitting back like everything was now well and dandy.  
  
"But there is bad news. The fever that she has caught sometimes leaves side effects. She may have weaker organs or even bones. Only time will tell how the illness has treated her body…."  
  
…AND she had gotten better. It had taken her a month until she was into full power again. But her lungs were never the same…  
  
Marguerite… the only other time she had been so nervous about her daughter's health is when she had been a month early when she had gone into labor. WAIT- the doctor had said that she was right on time. But that is impossible, the first time that she and Raoul had had sexual intercourse was eight months before, so how could-  
  
…oh no…  
  
A month before she and Raoul had actually had sex, she had gone to the graveyard to pray for guidance. That's when Erik had come under the guise of her angel to trick her into coming with him. But Raoul had stopped him from taking her away. Afterwards though, she had gone through the mirror to Erik's lair. And she had prayed for forgiveness, for everything she had done… and he had forgiven her. She had been so happy that she had kissed him. And then they had kissed again and again and one thing lead to another and well…  
  
…9-8-7-6…  
  
Marguerite isn't Raoul's daughter, she's Erik's!  
  
*  
  
Erik slipped quietly from Marguerite's room. She was sleeping in Christine's old room but since she hadn't made use of it for thirteen years, he figured she wouldn't mind. But he was exhausted. After administering the herbs and sleeping drugs for Marguerite Erik was ready to sleep. Not even bothering to get undressed, Erik removed his cloak and mask and fell asleep in his coffin.  
  
He dreamt back to his first meeting with MARGUERITE…  
  
~ Marguerite… ~  
  
The brush froze in her hair, "Who's there?"  
  
~ An angel… ~  
  
She took the gold brush from her long raven locks, "The angel? The Angel of Music?"  
  
~ Yes… ~  
  
"You've come to teach me, Angel?" she sat up straight and looked toward the heavens.  
  
~ Yes child, I have ~  
  
"Oh, thank you, Angel! When do we start…?"  
  
  
**I remember that, I hadn't really respected her until one meeting with her, two weeks later…**  
  
They had stopped briefly for a water break after Marguerite went into a sudden coughing fit.   
  
"Angel, why do you spend time with me?"  
  
~ You are exceptional ~  
  
"But I'm not special at all. The kids at my own age wouldn't even… not without being proddded by their mothers. I was pitied. I don't even have any friends. And now, my family doesn't even want to keep me. Meg is nice. But I'm, we're so distant. No one understands me, I barely do," she sniffles before shaking her head and smiling weakly. "Anyway, no self pity sessions. We are here to sing."  
  
~ But child, you look ready to cry ~  
  
She suddenly looked mad and slammed her fist down on her vanity, "NO! I refuse to cry! I will NOT cry. There are millions of people out there more unfortunate than I am."  
  
There was a pause before,  
  
~ Why do you keep going then? ~  
  
"Because Angel, life isn't going to just going to hand you what you want, hand you your dreams. You've got to fight hand and neck for it. You've got to grit your teeth and plow through every single hardship and pain. But it all pays off in the end."  
  
~ What do you want? ~  
  
"For those I care about to be happy," she smiled a bit. "But being a diva wouldn't hurt. Now, may we continue with my lessons?"  
  
~ There's something you're not telling me ~  
  
"About what, Angel?"  
  
~ There's something you are not telling me about your past… ~  
  
Her eyes widened before she turned away. She played with the lace on the corner of her fog gray dress. She looked up and opened her mouth, changed her mind, and shut it with an abrupt snap. Then she-  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"  
  
A loud scream tore through his dream making Erik jump from his coffin. Realizing that it was coming from Marguerite's room, he hurried to find her.  
  
*****He is here all around me! He's going to catch me! He'll never let me go! He's got me he's got me!  
He'sgoingtokillmeHe'sgoingtokillmeohgodinheavensavemesavemesaveme!  
  
"Marguerite, wake UP!"*****  
  
She opened her eyes to find a man looming over her. The last thing she could remember was someone carrying her into a dark corridor. That's when something clicked. She knew that this had been the angelic tutor her mother had spoken of.   
  
"Erik."  
  
That's when she noticed. His mask… he wasn't wearing it. 


	5. This face, the infection which poisons o...

Howdy- just a brief note. I know I have been updating this frequently (compared to my other story - sorry Alli - but I'm going to be updating it only on the weekends and sometimes during the week because it was starting to interfer with my school work- and that is a nono. So I all hope you can forgive me... Kudos to you all!  
  
  
Disclaimer: For all of you who thought I owned every character that appears in my story having to do with "Phantom of the Opera" I hate to disappoint you.  
  
Box ~uh~ Chapter Five: This face, the infection which poisons our love…   
  
Erik pulled back. **My name… how did she know my name?**  
  
"How did you know my name?" he said, echoing his thoughts.  
  
Marguerite sat up slowly. Erik watched as she slowly wiped the tears and sleep from her eyes. He was completely oblivious to the fact that she was not wiping sleep and tears from her eyes but was infact, rubbing them to discard an illusion. But no, when she opened her eyes the sight of the horridly scarred visage was still there, contaminating the right side of his face. She also dully noted that he was staring at her, waiting. He had asked her a question…  
  
**What was it!?!** She searched her mind quickly until she came upon what she was searching for.  
  
"M-My mot-ther," she paused to straighten out the stammer in her voice. "My mother once spoke of a teacher whose imagination had no limits and whose voice soared to the very heights of heaven. But he had deceived her and betrayed her confidence. He regained it though, by sacrificing something for her."  
  
Marguerite was trembling but forced herself to stop. Why was she afraid? This was the very same man, the kind but strict teacher who had gave up his free time just to tutor her on her voice. Why should his face make him different to her? She peered closer.  
  
**Wait! That looks familiar…** Her hand drifted unconsciously to her lower back.  
  
She was strangely silent and peering at him curiously. **I wonder what's wrong- fool- she just screamed… possibly from a nightmare and you are wondering what is wrong with her!**  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked, genuinely concerned.   
  
His inquiry broke into her thoughts. She answered frankly, not wanting to get into details, "Yes, thank you."   
  
**He doesn't know his mask is not on… perhaps I should tell him?**  
  
"Monsieur, my mother also told me that you always wore a mask. So, if you would like me to shut my eyes while you go and put it on that's fine. But," she added quickly, "if you are comfortable without the mask that is okay too." She watched the emotions play across the plains of his face as he digested what she said.  
  
That's when Erik noticed how comfortable his face felt and how easy it had been to breath. **MY MASK!** His hands flew up to his face. **I forgot to put it back on when I woke up! Poor Marguerite, she must be so fright- wait - why isn't she screaming?**  
  
He peeked through his hands to see Marguerite smiling softly at him, looking both concerned and curious. This was new… she didn't look scared at all. He slowly lowered his hands waiting for the inevitable flinch but it never came.   
  
"You're not scared?" he inquired.  
  
Windows started to align in her mind but still something was offsetting them. "Would you rather that I ran and screamed in fear?"  
  
He shook his head. Of course not, that's just what he had gotten used to.  
  
Her mind found what was missing… but the question she must ask to fill the tiniest gap. It was horribly rude yet completely necessary. **I can only hope that he will forgive me** She looked down ashamed before raising her gaze and meeting his head-on. "Monsieur, I hope you do not think me rude when I ask you this but, how did you get those scars?"  
  
His baffled gaze turned to that of rage when he heard her request. She was just like the rest, a scavenger trying to pick him apart piece by piece. "Birth defect," he spat.  
  
"Oh," she nodded. Gathering her thoughts she could have sworn she heard a *click* when everything aligned and made sense. "You and my mother- you were friends?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her entire switch of topic. Was she trying to wheedle her way out of this situation? **Of course, you idiot!**  
"We weren't very chummy but if you had to categorize our relationship I would say it would fall there," he replied bitterly.  
  
She nodded again, she could tell though that he was lying. **It is time that he knows the truth of who I am… perhaps I shall tell him of my past as well… soon.**   
  
"Did you know that I look nothing like Raoul or anyone on his side of the family?" she stated.  
  
His eyebrow seemed to go higher on his forehead. **Where is she going with this?**   
"Really, I was unaware of this."  
  
"Yes and in fact it's not at all uncommon. My sister looked nothing like her father either, in fact she was an exact replica of mum right down to the dimple in her left cheek. But you see, what truly bothers me about my situation is that I don't look entirely like my mum either. Mum' s hair is pure chestnut spirals, my hair is as dark as a raven's wing and as straight as a line. But perhaps, my grandmother had the same hair as I for my mother does not remember her well. My eyes, you see, are very rare though. Like amber honey, you are the only person I have ever seen with my eyes," She grabbed his gaze and held it as she laid the bomb on him as gently as possible. "And even more so, the scars that populate the right side of your face, which you claim is a birth defect, also populates my lower back." She watched his eyes widen as she paused for both effect and saturation. "Now, can you look me in the eyes and tell me honestly that there was no time when you and my mother were more than just 'friends'?" She was now the one who raised her eyebrow as she waited for him to put it all together.  
  
He listened as she stated fact after fact, each one starting to tug at the pure realization stirring in the back of his mind. As she struck him with her last truth, it rang as true as a slap in the face. He was bewildered…**But Christine and I had only been intimate once… she couldn't have conceived the first… Marguerite couldn't be…**  
  
"You're my…"  
  
She looked just as shocked as he when it all finally hit her.  
  
"…daughter," she finsihed.  
  
***  
  
Christine gripped the two letters in her hand. She knew it! She had known something was wrong with Marguerite- she had to go to Paris… as soon as possible. It was noon now. **I shall leave as soon as the clock strikes twelve again and I can only hope I wont be too late…**  
  
And for the first time in thirteen years, the night sung to her as she swiftly but carefully slipped away that night... 


	6. ...Inside my mind...

Disclaimer: Read my lips- I do not own Phantom of the Opera  
  
Chapter Six: …Inside my mind….  
  
CHRISTINE-  
  
The wind was softer than a lovers caress on my cheek as I galloped to the train station.  
  
Defying Raoul wasn't easy. For far too long I had been his slave, his doll. Pretty, cared for, perfect, and utterly lifeless. It seemed fate wanted to rob me of all happiness. First, my father, the wonderful musician, had forced me to grow up overnight after his death. Then, Erik had come and stolen both my heart and mind from me in his disguise of my "Angel of Music". Raoul, my childhood sweetheart, had appeared out of nowhere shortly after that. And chaos had broken out in a mad frenzy of deception and truths, betrayal and heartache. The ending was fit for the greatest tragedy around, where my beloved villain had released the damsel in spite of his love for me and my prince had carried me off, leaving my heart behind.  
  
Indeed, I loved Raoul- I still do, but he is nothing more than a best friend to me. When he wants me to come with him to bed, it is awkward and almost programmed. There is no love from my end and sometimes I wonder- if there is love from his anymore.  
  
Love had been stripped from my body, bit by bit over the years. My father's death had been a great blow and caused quite a grand amount of damage on my weak heart. But time had done its wonders and had lessened the pain. I never healed fully though, tears still slip from my eyes when I see a happy father and daughter walk out of mass.  
  
And then Erik, my angel and love, had been taken away from me as well by his own command! He had chosen what he assumed was the better path. Who was he to choose what is better for me! Who is he to ASSUME! But I believe that Erik forgot to comprehend that living in a gilded cage was no better than being condemned to darkness. I would have lived in hell to stay by his side!  
  
Marguerite had then taken ill after that dreadful drop into the freezing lake. The sickness had taken its toll on her lungs and she was not allowed to run and play hide-and-go-seek with the other children. She grew up that year, so young… She was more of a mother to Jillian than I.  
  
But then, fate had been cruel enough to not only twist the knife in my bleeding heart, but to stab ferociously at my first child's. Jillian had been found in the barn near our house dead. She was brutally beaten and raped until her tormentor had crushed her ribcage around her heart. Jillian was only seven years old…  
  
Marguerite had been found in the field nearby, unconscious, as if the cruel man had decided not to bother and had left her there to die. It almost killed Marguerite when she heard of her sister's death. And her grief added to my own. Marguerite's comatose state lasted for almost three months before she finally slipped back into a normal routine again. But even then she was no longer the same, the veil of childish ignorance had been raised from her eyes and she saw all.  
  
I had given birth to Tobias a month later…  
  
He was two years old when Marguerite ran away. That day had been strange as if trouble had been waiting to pounce on my grief-stricken family.  
  
I had given the opera to Marguerite for her birthday several months before in a fit of insanity. I longed to snatch it back but when I saw my daughter's eyes light up when she read it I couldn't bare the thought. Sometimes, I would hear her humming the music from across the house and I would stop whatever I was doing, no matter how important, and stood outside her door to listen. Her voice drew me in way that made me shiver in comparison…  
  
Music had left a strong imprint on my daughter. She was also more graceful than I and at least twice as smart. Sometimes, I believe, she even baffled Raoul to stupidity. She had a great amount of understanding and acceptance.  
  
But since both her mother and father were ill tempered, she had her fits of rage. Her eyes would light up in a strange manor and then she would stomp to her room and slam the door. In a few minutes the sounds of an angry violin would be heard coming from her chamber and would again draw me, no matter how wicked the song, to stand outside her door.  
  
She was skilled in many instruments but the organ seemed to be her favorite, the violin came in second. I loved to sit and listen to her after meals. I would disappear to a time and place where I was far more innocent and my Maestro was handing me the heart of Paris on a silver platter.  
  
It was on one of those days that Marguerite had been banished from her own home…  
  
I was listening to her play to some classical song in which I cannot name and then suddenly it became something completely different. Then notes twisted until I heard the familiar cords from the song "Past the Point of No Return". And that's when Raoul decided to make an appearance. And he was enraged in an instant.  
  
"Marguerite, you will stop playing that gibberish this instant!" he glared at his elder daughter.  
  
"Papa, why must I stop? It's beautiful music," she matched his stare easily.  
  
"It is demon music. You will do as I say and stop,"  
  
"No," she simply let the word slip through her lips as she leaned over the piano further. Her soul was almost visible as it poured into the music. I could no longer resist the calling of the song and began to sing along.  
  
Raoul was utterly pissed. There was no better way to describe it.  
  
"You wretched demon!" he screamed when he saw that I had been pulled into the song. He then did something I never thought he would do. He hit Marguerite. Now, this was no slap. It was a curled fist right into her right eye.  
  
… I closed everything out after that…  
  
I know what happened no need to pull it back to present mind.  
  
Tobias had gotten sick in Marguerite's absence. His body was small and easy for the virus to venture through and evacuate within days. He died in my arms.  
  
Now my heart is simply a barely recognizable pulp that beats because fate wills it to.  
  
As I ride closer to the train station, I pray that God will either give me the love that I crave for or release me from it…  
  
RAOUL-  
  
I watched as Christine rode off on her white mare. Where is she going?  
  
**She is leaving you! Stop her!**  
  
How? First, Marguerite ran away and now Christine…  
  
**It is Marguerite that pulls Christine away… You should have killed her when you had the chance!**  
  
What! I could never kill my own daughter- she didn't do anything… I just can't understand why she ran away in the first place…  
  
**Don't you remember- she was playing that Monster's music… **  
  
I… I…  
  
**You Fool! Get it through your thick skull! You screwed everything up! Christine has run away from you because of Marguerite! You should have killed her… you should have killed her long ago- just like how you killed- **  
  
NO! I didn't kill her. No… and I wont kill Marguerite… she's my daughter…  
  
**You must… If you don't she'll take Christine away from you forever… just like how that blasted Phantom would have… she's a demonic whore- you'd be doing her a favor by killing her!**  
  
If I killed her… Christine would stay with me… forever?  
  
**Yes, for all eternity- till death do us part- remember? And no one would take her away… and everything would be perfect- just like before…**  
  
And all I have to do is kill Marguerite?  
  
**Yes… if it makes you feel better you can kill her quick. And Marguerite's soul would be released from the demon that holds her body hostage…**  
  
So I would be helping everyone by killing Marguerite?  
  
**Yes… just a quick pull of a trigger and all will be well…**  
  
I'll do it then.  
  
**That's a good boy. Now hurry, we must catch up with Christine…**  
  
Yes, we must hurry. Don't worry Christine everything will be all right… Just as soon as I kill Marguerite…  
  
**Just as soon as you kill Marguerite…**  
  
ERIK-  
  
A daughter… I have a daughter. My God, that makes me a father! I was completely shocked and I blanked out. When I came to, Marguerite was staring at me with a concerned expression on her face. I had fainted- me! The Phantom of the Opera, the Opera Ghost fainted like a little girl! Ha! I hope none of the ballet rats get a whiff of this!  
  
"Are you all right?" she looked weary; she should rest.  
  
"Perhaps you should rest… you look tired, little one." I told her, oddly concerned.  
  
She smirked, "Trying to rid of me? All ready?"  
  
"No. I just need some time…"  
  
She nodded in understanding, "To think?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She nodded at my simple answer. Her eyes were unreadable and in that instant I wanted more than ever to know what she was thinking. All was revealed to me when she spoke.  
  
"You don't want me, do you? You're utterly disgusted and shamed that I'm your daughter. You hate the idea, don't you? You just want to wretch with revulsion, don't you! Just like every one else! Just like everyone else…" the last line was a strained whisper as her body started to shake with silent sobs.  
  
And in that moment I understood. This child was just like me, starved of love- refused the only thing she wanted. In that moment I saw all my pain as a child reflected in her eyes. Her emotions collided and collapsed, flooding her eyes with tears. Sobbing, she sat alone on the cold bed. In a natural reaction with little hesitation I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her into my lap rocking her back and forth. Though she has the mind of an adult, she still has a child's heart. So fragile, I was so afraid she'd break at my trust. Yet, I seemed to give her comfort as little as it was. I shushed her and ran my fingers down her back in soothing circles until her breathing evened and her tears had dried on her smooth cheeks.  
  
I laid her in her bed and tucked her in as if I had done it everyday of my life. I even kissed her forehead- unconsciously it seemed.  
  
I sat in my great leather chair as I thought. Marguerite was my daughter. My daughter… oh, this is wonderful! I may have been denied loving parents but I would not be denied being a loving parent. Nothing could possibly be more wonder-  
  
Oh no…  
  
Marguerite's dying…  
  
Funny, how bliss can disappear in a matter of two words…  
  
**Is it written in the stars? Are we paying for some crime? Is that all that we are good for, just a stretch of mortal time?**  
  
Is this a punishment… for all that I have done? For the murders I have committed, for the joy I received from doing it? For the murders I would have committed if it were not for my vow to Nadir? Am I that much of a monster to be denied a family in any shape or form? It seemed as though fate or God or whoever was yakking it up was certainly having fun screwing up my life.  
  
**Or some gods experiment, in which we have no say?**  
  
So, this is what it feels like to be a chess piece. I'm in danger… I better make the right move before the check is stated or all is lost. God has turned my life into a game and warped it so that the ones I love are sucked in too. If I was damned from the start why must I spread my darkness onto others? Why can't fate just let me have paradise for one day?  
  
**In which we're given paradise, but only for a day**  
  
Marguerite is going to die, but by God if it kills me she will be happy as she takes that last breath!  
  
MARGUERITE-  
  
The world is spinning and twisting around me. Blue swirls into red which swirls to yellow which swirls to black. Black eerie darkness lies below my feet. I realize I'm having the dream again.  
  
(*)  
  
I'm on a cliff staring down into the still, dark waters of an uncharted and seemingly bottomless pool. The landscape of surrounding rocks seemed to be sneering and forbidding, completely evil looking, reeking of menace which makes me want to turn and run home to my mother.  
  
  
  
And yet I remain, shivering at the bite of chill in the air, and staring into that dark pool below me. The pool is guarded by a giant sea spider who lurks unseen below the surface; and yet I know that beyond this hideous guardian of the depths, Neptune waits silently for me upon a golden throne, waits to crown me as his queen with a tiara of flawless black pearls. I know that if I can only kneel at his feet he will except me into his embrace and the two clumsy appendages I call legs shall be transformed into a mermaid's graceful tail. A thousand sea horses will form the litter that carries us through the wonderful splendors of his world to the palace of white coral where I will live forever and ever.  
  
All I have to do is jump…  
  
(*)  
  
I have had this dream for many nights and I have always lacked the courage. But now as I gaze into the black waters below I realize that the land behind me is receding at a dangerous rate. Time is running out and I must make the right decision…  
  
So I jump…  
  
And I fall  
  
And fall  
  
And fall  
  
For ages at a time…  
  
Until the icy waters envelop me in their iron arms, paralyzing me to stillness. Slowly I sink… or am I rising? In the black waters it is hard to determine which way was the surface and which way was just pulling me towards my coffin. The lack of oxygen started to wrap iron bands around my already weak lungs pulling tighter each second. I couldn't breathe… I had to reach the surface soon or I would die. A scary thought appeared in my head in that moment of time,  
  
Did I want to reach the surface?  
  
Bubbles floated up past my feet; do I follow them to breath in the sweet air of life, or do I simply swim deeper into the sweet oblivion's dark embrace? It would be so easy to just give in, stop fighting, throw in the towel, and sleep in eternal bliss. But what would that do to my mother? To my new found father?  
  
Whichever bridge I was about to cross I had to do it soon because fate was starting to choose for me. I was ready to be released from it all… to be left in peace in my solitude...  
  
**Marguerite… come back to me! Marguerite!**  
  
A voice of an angel was calling me from the surface.  
  
**Come back to me! Please, don't die on me!**  
  
I had to go back… I swam up after the bubbles… struggling out of deaths cold embrace to the surface. It was so close and when my head broke through the water's hold I sucked in a deep breath of fresh oxygen and my eyes flew open…  
  
And I was in my bed  
  
In Erik's home  
  
And he looked as if he was ready to cry from both pain and relief.  
  
And we did…  
  
We cried.  
  
And Neptune would have to wait…  
  
But soon I would join him…  
  
Soon.  
  
~*~  
  
Special Credits:  
  
-In Erik's thinking process he comes along the verses of a song.  
  
"Is it written in the stars… only for a day."  
  
Is from the musical, Aida. I Do Not own it.  
  
- In Marguerite's thinking process she talks of a reoccurring dream. In between the two stars (*) is an adaptation to a dream Christine has on pages 375-6 in Susan Kay's novel, Phantom. 


	7. You were warm and gentle...

A/N: Sorry this took so long but I promised a friend of mine I wouldn't update this story till I updated my "I the Dark"  
  
Disclaimer: You get the point don't you?  
  
Chapter Seven: You were warm and gentle…  
  
When Erik had finally calmed down, he released Marguerite from his embrace. He had hugged her, without hesitation, and she had accepted his presence, although she had seen his face.  
Erik had come in to check on Marguerite to find her choking on her own blood. Her body was going into shock due to the lack of oxygen. Quickly he had turned her on her side and cleared her throat of all blood. But she was still growing colder, her lips were going blue, and her heartbeat was slowing. He called to her in panic, afraid that death was coming too soon for him. Suddenly, she took a deep breath and her eyes shot open. Never in his life could he remember feeling so relieved.  
"Thank you," she whispered her gratitude.   
"No need, you think I was just going to let you die?" he looked at her questioningly.  
She mumbled something he didn't catch. Before he could question her, she spoke. "No, I mean for everything. You've done so much for me. And I just wanted you to know I'm happy that you're my father. May I call you that, Erik? May I name you my father?" her eyes looked into his, her innocence evident in her wide eyes.  
His tears were welling with disbelief. Never in his entire life had anyone loved him, cared for him on their own will, without his influence. "I would be honored Marguerite. And I am happy that you are my daughter, you're all I could have ever wished for. I'm very proud of you, never doubt that."  
They embraced again, both happy that had finally gotten what they dreamed of.  
  
~*~  
  
Raoul watched as the train left the station. On that blasted contraption, Christine was being brought closed to his enemy, Marguerite. The next train left in an hour, he WOULD be on it. And then, everything would be fine…  
  
**Just as soon as I kill Marguerite…**  
  
~*~  
  
Last entry of Marguerite's diary-  
  
It was strange at first, getting used to having a father, a real one, who cared and loved you. But as the week passed, it seemed that all was finally falling into place. And I discovered that the longer I was saturated with his presence the harder it was to withhold the secrets that have never escaped my lips before.  
Papa and I fell into a schedule of sorts. I would leave for rehearsals at nine and be back by four. After a light snack and a brief nap, I would have a two-hour lesson from papa. Then, after a brief rest (which usually consisted of warming down and a cup of tea), I would be tutored on both organ and violin for an hour each. Dinner would be prepared while I continued practicing. After dinner, we would sit in the study. We usually did an assortment of things such as play chess (I was getting much better but I wonder if he is just letting me almost win), talk, or I would listen to him play while I knit or read. Sometimes he would read to me. I would sit in a stool at his feet and lay my head on his lap as he read stories of many lives. But I much preferred when he told me legends or told me of his travels. I loved to hear about his friend, Nadir. I would love to meet him. I loved Papa's stories almost as much as I loved him. The only possible way my life could be perfected is if mama joined our happiness. Then we would be a happy family and I would be whole at last.  
Only one burden rests on my shoulders theses days… if I could only tell Erik that I had been there when my sister was murdered and I had seen who delivered her to Death's door. That the murderer was ind  
  
  
**ENTRY NEVER FINISHED**  
  
One evening after supper, Marguerite was feeling very weary. But she refused to go to sleep without hearing a legend play out through her father's trance like voice.  
He was reading when she entered in her nightgown and she lay on the couch and put her head on his knee. "Tell me a story, Papa," she whispered.  
Her looked down to find his little angel gazing at him with doe eyes. He could not deny her, so he bent to his daughter's will and closed the book he had been reading. He searched for the right legend for tonight. Finally, he decided on one that he had told her mother a long time ago, before she had betrayed him.  
A nightingale had fallen in love with a white rose but she had refused him due to her fear of Allah's will. Allah had forbid the two to mate. But finally, the rose had overcome her fear and out of their union came a single red rose the world wasn't supposed to know.  
By the time he had finished his tale, Marguerite was fast asleep in his lap. Smiling genuinely, **I've been doing that as of late** he picked up her small form and carried to her bedroom. After tucking her in he wasn't quite ready to leave yet. He smoothed back her hair and sighed.  
Finally deciding on resting himself, he kissed her forehead. He whispered lightly in her ear, "You are the red rose." And departed to his chambers.  
  
~*~  
  
Christine looked about she was in France. She would rest here a night before heading to Paris. Going into the first inn she saw, she prayed again that she wasn't too late.  
  
~*~  
  
Many rats live in Erik's underground due to his respect for them. One particular rat was rather hungry one evening and started to chew on a wire. Now this wasn't any ordinary wire, this wire signaled the alarm system. Finally chewing through, the rat scurries off leaving the alarm useless. 


	8. You were once my friend and father, then...

A/N- The end is around the corner! Oh no! My baby's almost all grown up! Anyway enjoy this chapter and review please please please.  
  
Oh and just a random thought- you know the scene in the musical when Raoul dives into the water... ever wonder what would happen if he missed the trap door?  
  
R: OWWWW!  
**Erik and Christine come by on the boat and run over him**  
E: Ha, you stupid fop!  
R: **groans** I AM NOT A FOP!  
  
Disclaimer- This all belongs to whoever owns it. I own Marguerite and Jillian- ha!!!  
  
Chapter Eight- You were once a friend and father, then my world was shattered…  
  
All she could hear was the music, all she could feel was the music. It drummed in her pulse and prompted her to wake from her long slumber. Marguerite's eyes opened slowly, her eyelids still heavy with receding dreams. There was a feeling she had yet to identify growing in her soul. One of absolute peace and understanding and it grew stronger every day. And she knew in that moment, when her eyes opened to the beautiful room around her, that she would not last another month. Death was lurking around the corner and she was no longer afraid.  
But still felt like she had unfinished business. Three was something left to tell.   
  
**Jillian… I have yet to tell someone of her death and her murderer**  
  
It is time to whisper her secret into a listening ear, for soon she would not have a chance. And she owed her sister some justice.   
  
She slowly rose from her bed and stretched while her mind played elsewhere. She distantly dressed and washed up before leaving her room. Her father was playing vividly today, it seems his mind was elsewhere too. His long bony finger stroked the organ keys with a caress fit for a lover. She had never interrupted him when he played but, then again, there is a first time for everything.  
  
"Papa?" her voice rose above the music as it was brought to an immediate halt.  
  
Erik was surprised to say the least; she had never done this before. "Yes, my child?" He turned to face her and had to swallow a gasp when he looked upon the visible changes in her appearance. He had been trying to avoid seeing them but they had become too evident over the past week. Her hair, once so bright and full of life, now lay limp around her shoulders. Her shining golden eyes was reduced to dull amber. Her skin was paler than usual and her body was visibly frail. She was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
Marguerite registered the shocked expression in his eyes. She wasn't the least bit surprised, her vision left something to be desired. "I need to tell you something. I need to share something with you."  
  
His good eyebrow rose, "What do you mean?"  
  
She slowly sat in a footstool by the organ bench before looking at him again, "I'm going to tell you a story and you have to promise me that you won't interrupt until I'm done."  
  
He nodded and she began-  
  
"Once upon a time, only three years ago, there lived a young girl named Marguerite who loved her sister very much. Her name was Jillian and she was everything Marguerite had dreamed about when she heard her mama was going to have a baby. Jillian looked exactly like her mother in every way shape and form and she made her father very proud.   
"But unfortunately, Jillian inherited her fathers prying sense of curiosity. She was constantly looking through books and papers she couldn't read and messing up her parent's study. She had the urge to touch everything. Christine understood because she knew Jillian was only a child. But it made Raoul mad. He always yelled at her sending her rushing to her sister's room, scared and trembling from her father's wrath. This mad Marguerite angry, but she said nothing for she knew it would only get her in trouble.   
"Jillian also inherited her mother's clumsiness. She consistently bumped into vases and statues, knocking them over. When her father found out she was beaten and sent to her room; but later on, Marguerite would slip into her room with some cold meat for her wounds.   
"Now as she got older her clumsiness started to become less evident and she kept her hands to her self. But sometimes she did do something tactless but it was a rare occurrence. But one day Jillian made a big mistake that made Raoul very angry…"  
  
It was midwinter and Marguerite was doing one of her favorite things, reading in front of the fire. Marguerite sat in her favorite chair reading "Romeo and Juliet" this evening. Dinner had just ended nearly twenty minutes ago. Her bedtime was in an hour, but she planned on finishing her book before that time. A loud creak shattered her quiet atmosphere and lurched her foreword in fright.  
  
"Maggie?" a tiny voice said.  
  
"Jilly? Don't do that you startled me!" she said turning to the tiny girl.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Jillian shrank back a bit.  
  
Marguerite put her book down and went to her sister, enfolding her in a hug. "It's okay Jilly-bean, I forgive you." She pulled back and looked into her sister's face. She was still terrified. "What's wrong?"  
  
"It's papa, he's frightened me so, Maggie. He went into another one of his fits and hit mama. He makes me so mad! And so scared…" the little child started to sob.  
  
"Hush now," Marguerite held her sister closer. "It's going to be all right now, Maggie's here."  
  
"Why does mommy let him do that to her, Maggie? Why does papa hurt her?" she continued to sob.  
  
Marguerite knew that Jillian wouldn't understand their mother's situation, after all, she was only seven years old.   
  
"Mommy is just scared that's all. Daddy doesn't mean to hurt her…" the latter sentence was such a lie. It felt like sucking on a greasy coin, but the truth would sting her too much.  
  
"No!" Jillian suddenly flung herself out of Marguerite's arms. "No! He should pay for what he does! It's not fair that he hurts mum like he does. He should pay!" she shouted.  
  
"Jillian." Marguerite warned.  
  
"No! If he's going to hurt something special to me, I'm going to hurt something special of his!"   
  
The young girl then ran to he fathers desk and picked up his ledger book and, before Marguerite could stop her, hurled it into the fire.  
  
"Jillian, no!" Marguerite lurched forward to get the book but it was too late. It burst into flames. And when things couldn't get any worse, it did.  
  
Raoul burst in yelling, "What's all the fuss about?" And that's when he saw his ledger on fire.  
  
"Who did this? Who?" He eyed us both.  
  
Now, Marguerite was a big sister. And she knew she could take the heat much more gracefully than her sister could. "I did it papa, it was an accident."  
  
He turned automatically to Jillian, "Why did you do this?"  
  
"I did it!" Marguerite screamed.  
  
He looked at me cruelly, "Oh really? Then why did you scream 'Jillian, no'!" he mocked.   
  
Marguerite had no answer to that.  
  
"For lying I banish you to your room, go now."   
  
"No, not until I know what you are going to do to Jillian."  
  
"Marguerite, I gave you a direct order. Leave before I lose my temper."  
  
"No, not until I know what will happen to her."  
  
"LEAVE THIS INSTANT!" Raoul bellowed as he lost his cool.  
  
"No," her tone was like slick ice.  
  
Raoul lashed out and backhanded her across the face, "Never use that tone with me again."  
  
"You can't tell me what to do, you have no power over me!"  
  
He slapped her again, harder this time. "Go to your room!"  
  
Marguerite gave Jillian a look that said 'leave while I'm distracting him'. "No, you stupid fop! I will not."  
  
He punched her for that one, in the gut. "Never bad mouth me again, young lady do you hear me? I am your father and I deserve some respect!"  
  
Marguerite was in obvious pain, but she would not back down. "You deserve nothing! You deserve to be-" SMACK SMACK  
  
Marguerite was on the ground now, bleeding. She managed to peer up and see that Jillian was gone. "I'll be in my room."  
She dashed out of the room as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. Raoul was behind her as soon as she went across the first corner. She sped up the steps and as she went by her sister's room, she yelled 'Lock your door' before dashing into her room and doing the same.   
  
"Raoul banged on that door for god knows how long. If my mother had been home, she would have had a fit. I was so frightened… I don't know how I fell asleep." She paused and glanced up for the first time during the tale. She wished she hadn't though, Erik looked incensed. His hands were gripping the piano bench so hard she thought it would break. His face was red and hot with strain but his eyes were two cold orbs.  
  
"Father be calm. If this part upsets you well- I'd hate to think about what you'd think about the rest of the story." She took a deep breath before continuing. This part would be the hardest.  
  
"I don't know when I woke up. I remember it was dark and cold. Something had startled me awake but it hadn't been a dream, it was a noise. It was screaming, like a child's voice. And I later learned that it was indeed a child's voice, my sister's. I wanted to run to my mama right there and then but she had gone out of town to visit her father's grave. So, I decided to do something about it. I looked out my window, listening so I could find the source of the voice. And that's when I saw the barn by our house, there were dim lights glowing from it. So, I threw a cape on and crept out of the service door.  
  
"I ran to the barn, the snow freezing my feet, the cold going straight through my thin nightgown. All I remembered was my fall into the lake four years previous. The screaming got louder as I approached the barn and then came down to scarcely heard whimpering. I was so scared, so scared…." Her voice was cracking as she held back a sob. She was reliving the memories. It was like putting salt on a fresh wound. It hurt so much, the memories, yet she found the strength to continue.  
  
"I crept up to the barn… I didn't want to look inside but I had to. And there I saw Jillian on the floor. She was being raped in front of my very eyes. And her attacker… her attacker was- was- was…." She couldn't continue. She sobbed into her hands. Deep, painful sobs that ripped into her decaying lungs. She didn't stop crying, not when the pain became so intense it was hard to breathe, and not when she felt two, big warm arms hold her to an equally warm chest.  
  
She snuggled closer as she cried herself out. She finally whispered, "Oh papa, I wish mama were here."  
  
"Wish granted."   
  
*  
  
When Christine saw the huge opera house, she hesitated. This was once her home, now it was a strangers land. Slowly she crept inside, clinging to the shadows. A show had just ended and people were flooding out of the auditorium and into their carriages, merrily chanting about the show they had just witnessed. Christine silently slipped through the halls until she came upon her old dressing room. This corridor was deserted so she doubted that anyone had inhibited the room.  
  
She slowly opened the door and stepped inside. It felt like she was cracking open her own grave, for she HAD died, the moment she said 'I do'.  
  
She was surprised to find her room did belong to someone. She was nervous until she saw her letter to her daughter sitting on the vanity. They gave her room to her daughter…  
  
"What idiots…. Didn't think twice about the opera ghost did they?" she thought as she pressed the button to the counter weight.   
  
As she went down the steps, she heard a voice but it was too faint to say whose it was. She found Erik's boat on the shore. She was unsure how to use it but she did her best as she pooled across.  
  
The voice, she finally realized, was Marguerite's. But it had flowed of her tongue in the same manor that Erik's had, in calm musical waves. She listened in on the conversation and was shocked when she heard Raoul had smacked her daughter around so harshly. She bumped onto the shore as she heard her daughter talking of the screaming. Christine softly walked into the house, barely making a sound, and stood in the doorway of the room that encompassed her two greatest loves.   
  
She watched at how Erik was watching her daughter, their daughter. And in an instant, she knew that he knew. She wondered briefly how before it left her mind completely. Erik was happy and comfortable with his daughter that's all that mattered.   
  
She continued to listen to Marguerite speak until she had broken into sobs. Christine felt her arms ache to hold and comfort her precious child. And Christine was shocked, to say the least, when Erik's arms which had killed so many, lovingly wrapped around Marguerite and held her close.   
  
"Oh papa," **She knew too?** "I wish mama were here."  
  
"Wish granted," she stated simply.  
  
*  
  
"Christine…" Erik's voice slowly wrapped around her in a lovers caress.  
  
"Mama?" Marguerite shot up in a nanosecond, sounding like a lost three-year-old.  
  
Christine could only bite her lip and nod. Her baby, her first and only baby left, was so sick. So visibly sick and she hadn't been there. "Oh baby, I'm here now."  
  
"Mama!" Marguerite sobbed as she launched into her open mother's arms. "Oh mama, I missed you so much. I thought I'd never see you again!"  
  
"Oh my sweet Maggie- what have I done! Why didn't I stop him. It's all my fault!"  
  
Marguerite was going to say something when Erik beat her to it. "Christine, don't blame yourself. It isn't your fault people get sick. People get hurt. People… people die."  
  
"Erik! Don't say such things Maggie's going to be fine… aren't you?" She looked down at her sweet daughter's face for reassurance. "Aren't you?"  
  
"Oh mama, the words he has spoken, I'm dying mama…" her lips twisted into a smile. "But you're here and we're a family now. That's all I wanted before I died. We can be a family now, can't we? You still love each other, don't you?" she asked innocently, her eyes switching from her mother's face to her father's.  
  
"Yes," they answered simultaneously.  
  
Marguerite smiled brightly. She stood in between her mother and he father. She held out a hand to her mum and one to her father. She cocked an eyebrow, "Family?"  
  
Erik took Marguerite's hand. "Family."  
  
Marguerite looked towards Christine for her decision. Her hand was held out like a question, a sacrifice. Christine looked into Erik's eyes and saw the man she had made love to all those years ago staring back. This may be the easiest decision she ever made.  
  
"Family," she accepted with a smile.  
  
Marguerite then drew them all into a hug and each person was surprised when everyone accepted the embrace.  
  
"This is it, we're family now," Christine thought as she snuggled closer to her love and her child.  
  
Erik noticed the tears running down Marguerite's face. "Dear child, why are you crying?"  
  
"I'm just so happy!" she exclaimed as she pulled them both closer. "We're finally together, we're a family!"  
  
A gunshot rang out through the room, cutting open the happy moment like a knife through butter.  
  
"I hate having to break up this cavity giving reunion- oh who am I kidding- I'm happy as hell."  
  
Christine's eyes grew wide in fear as she whispered, "Raoul."  
  
  
  
  
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	9. One by one, I watch the illusions shatte...

**starts to cry** Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I can't believe this story is almost over...  
  
Disclaimer- Do I look like Andrew Lloyd Webber? Wait... don't answer that. And even if I was him, I think I would know how to spell my name.  
  
Chapter Nine- One by one I watch the illusions shatter...  
  
All three people whirled around to look at the intruder. Each person had a different expression in their eyes. The female had fear, the child had hidden anger, the masked one had rage, and the one holding the gun- pure madness.  
  
"Christine, time to go. You belong to me; you pledged it long ago. You promised to love, cherish, and OBEY me." He motioned her to come closer.  
  
Christine hesitated and Raoul noticed. "I see… you would rather stay with this monster than me."  
  
"The only monster I can see is you," Marguerite stated boldly.  
  
He turned his gun on the child, "Well, well, well- look who decided to join the conversation. Marguerite, it has simply been ages…"  
  
She glared at him, "Not long enough."  
  
"I agree whole-heartedly, but you see, I had to come and visit because how else could I kill you? I mean I could have hired someone, but I thought killing you myself would be more fulfilling." His smirk twisted into a mad grin.  
  
Erik entered the conversation at this moment, stepping in front of both of the females in a protective stance. "You will do no such thing."  
  
Raoul's head tipped to the side as he looked at the Opera Ghost before another smirk appeared on his face. "You're right, monsieur, I have to get all distractions out of the way first." And with that, he shot Erik.  
  
Due to Raoul's poor aim, the bullet grazed Erik's left shoulder instead of going through his still beating heart. But it sill frightened Christine and she ran to Erik, immediately trying to help him.  
  
Marguerite stepped forward; the rage she had kept in check for so long was now evident in her gaze. "Why are you hurting him? This has nothing to do with him or Christine, they are both long won battles. It's me you want, isn't it? Me you want to kill."  
  
"Always so bright and straight forward, I could never deny you that," Raoul mock complimented.   
  
"It's not like it will be a complicated task for you Raoul, you've done it before," loathing dripped from every syllable as she spat a truth at him.  
  
Christine's head shot up and she looked at Raoul and questioned him, "Raoul?" She stood up and Erik slowly followed her lead.  
  
"It isn't true Christine, don't listen to these futile lies!"  
  
"Yes it is!" Marguerite exploded. "I once told you I believe what I see. Well I believe that you are a monster because I saw you standing over Jillian's body!"  
  
Christine gasped and went pale. Erik's face registered one of surprise. Raoul just muttered an oath under his breath.  
  
"Yes," she hissed. "You wish you killed me now, all those years ago when I ran away from the sight of you murdering your own daughter!"  
  
Raoul was utterly pissed, "Well there is one way to remedy that mistake."  
  
The gun went off for the second time, barely missing Marguerite. Instead, it hit the broken mirror behind her. The force of the shot knocked the mirror off balance and it fell forward, crashing onto Marguerite's frail body, knocking her unconscious.  
  
Raoul, believing she was dead, laughed in triumph. Christine was screaming and Erik was yelling his daughter's name.  
  
"Now that we've got that little slut out of the way," Raoul gestured to the next room, "Let's go into the study to have a nice little chat."  
  
Christine walked slowly as if in a trance. Erik however, reached unconsciously for his lasso. He swore under his breath when he realized he had left it in his room.  
  
Christine was grabbed so suddenly, she didn't even notice it until she was tied to the chair. As soon as she realized she couldn't move her arms she snapped out of her daze and struggled.  
  
"Sit still and be a good girl." Raoul kissed Christine on the forehead and turned toward his enemy of the old.  
  
*  
  
Excerpt from the diary of Christine Daae-  
When Raoul had kissed my forehead, I wanted to scrub my flesh until it was bright red. He thinks her can treat me like a child, that after this everything will go back to normal. That I can just forget that my daughter is lying dead under a mirror. But he forgets that I've had to escape more than once from rope. And he didn't tie my hands very well. If Erik stalls just for a little while, I can escape these ropes.  
  
*  
  
"You've just killed a child, that doesn't bother you one bit does it?" Erik sneered.  
  
"Compared to all the people you have killed? I don't think that two naughty little girls will even us out."  
  
"Quite so, you are more of a monster than I. I would never lay a hand on a woman or a child, never."  
  
"Are you saying we have much in common, Phantom?"  
  
"Perhaps… but then again, who would want to be compared to you? You are pathetic. You don't know how to deal with a problem, so you shoot it. You can't bear to share anything. You feel nothing but hatred and pride. You are nothing."  
Raoul's eyes flashed for a moment. Remorse was visible for the briefest of moments, but it was a good sign. If he broke, he'd be easy to restrain.   
  
"Watch your words, sir, remember who is holding the gun," but even as he spoke the gun wavered in his hand.  
  
"Then kill me if you must. But I will die a happy man knowing that it is I who Christine loves. And then I will be able to join my daughter in heaven."  
  
*  
  
Marguerite stirred. The only thing that came to her foggy senses was pain. She opened her eyes and all she could see was red and glass.   
  
"Where am I?" she murmured.  
  
Distantly she heard her father's voice speaking and Raoul's voice answering. And all the memories hit her full force. She had to get up or Raoul would kill him. Her mind was determined but her body wasn't responding.   
  
"Get up," she growled at herself.   
  
Slowly she got up and, careful of the glass, slid out from under the mirror. Glass was stuck in her hair and in her clothing, her body covered with little scratches, some deep others not. Shaking off the excess glass, she started to limp towards the study.  
  
*  
  
"Christine doesn't-" and then the meaning behind Erik's words hit him fully. "You and Christine… and Marguerite is your daughter. She gave herself to you…"  
  
"Yes she did. Right after the graveyard and I held her all night long, as our daughter was conceived," A proud smirk appeared on Erik's face.  
  
"You soiled her… and I married her? You- you, this is all your fault and you're going to pay!" He bellowed as he cocked the gun for the last time that evening.  
  
*  
  
Excerpt from the diary of Erik-  
  
I would remember for the rest of my days the reaction I had to the gunshot. My eyes shut as I waited for the inevitable pain. Everything slowed down and distantly I heard glass breaking and a male scream of shock and pain. Then nothing. But my first coherent thought was,  
'Getting shot sure didn't hurt as much as I thought it would'  
And then I made the worst mistake of my life, I opened my eyes.  
  
  
ERIK: Review, please.  
  
CS: Well, what are you waiting for? Erik just asked you to do something... like you can resist him! 


	10. Past the Point of No Return...

A/N: This is the chapter I have been both waiting for and dreading. THIS IS NOT THE END- there is one more chapter. Get out your kleenex everyone, I was crying while I was writing it!  
  
**walks off huming 'Past the point of no return'**  
  
DISCLAIMER: Is this really neccessary? If it is, seek therapy.  
  
  
Chapter Ten- Past the point of no return…  
  
Last time on 'Wandering Child':  
  
Excerpt from the diary of Erik-  
  
I would remember for the rest of my days the reaction I had to the gunshot. My eyes shut as I waited for the inevitable pain. Everything slowed down and distantly I heard glass breaking and a male scream of shock and pain. Then nothing. But my first coherent thought was,  
'Getting shot sure didn't hurt as much as I thought it would'  
And then I made the worst mistake of my life, I opened my eyes.  
  
*  
  
Christine untangled herself from her bindings and hurled herself at Raoul seconds to late. The gunshot went off just before Christine pushed Raoul… right out a window. She watched as he landed square on his back on the sharp side of a rock.   
Slowly turning back to Erik she hoped that the shot had missed him, that perhaps Raoul's aim had been just as off as before, but her hopes were thrown into the ashes when she beheld the scene in front of her.  
  
*  
  
Erik's eyes opened and a shocked gasp forced its way out of his mouth.  
  
Black hair… Marguerite…  
  
He heard a soft whimper of pain before her knees gave out. Erik swallowed a sob as he caught Marguerite and fell with her to the floor. Her head lay in his lap, her eyes glazed with pain. And the full effect of what she had just done for him raked wholes in his soul. She had just taken a bullet for him and she was going to die.  
  
"Marguerite," he whimpered, bordering on sobbing. "You stupid, stupid girl, why did you do it? Why?"  
  
Christine almost lurched out of no where to his side. "Marguerite!" she cried.  
  
Marguerite's hands were over the wound under her breasts. She took a shuddering breath and it hitched in pain. Erik's despair increased when he could hear the blood gurgling in her throat. Blood slipped out of the corner of her mouth.  
  
"No, no, no, no, no. You can't die, you just can't!" Christine sobbed.  
  
"Oh mama," Marguerite said. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt that much anymore." Marguerite attempted to wipe away her mother's tears but her hand fell limp beside her, devoid of strength. Christine grasped in immediately between her own.  
  
Marguerite coughed, more blood coming out of the sides of her mouth as she did so.   
  
"My precious Marguerite… what have you done? What have you done?" Erik sobbed as the tears finally broke out of his eyes.   
  
"Sh…" Marguerite crooned with a smile. "No, no you mustn't cry. You have to be brave and strong. I want you to take it. Take my life and live it for me, never stop the waltz of life until death claims you too. You have to be happy… if not for each other, for me."  
  
Darkness started to invade her vision, just like when she was about to fall asleep. She knew she would never wake up again but still…  
  
"Sing to me… sing me a sweet lullaby… sing me to sleep, one last time…" Marguerite asked.  
  
Christine nodded shakily, starting the lullaby she had sung to her daughter every night once upon a time, "Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine. Little one when you play, don't you mind what you say. Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine."  
  
Erik caught the tune immediately, remembering that Christine had sung it to him long ago when she was his pupil. It had been a lullaby her father had sung to Christine before his death. And now she chose to sing it to Marguerite.  
  
He joined in at the next verse, "If they knew sweet little you, they'd end up loving you too. All those same people who scold you what they'd give just for the right to hold you. From your head to your toes, you're not much, goodness knows. But you're so precious to me, cute as can be, baby of mine."  
  
Excerpt from the diary of Christine Daae-  
  
And I will remember that moment for all time. Her eyes were slits by the time we reached the last note, but her eyes opened wide just for a second and they glowed so brightly, so brightly. Her eyes must have seen us then, together. A smile came to her bloodstained lips, one of true peace that I will forever envy. And then her eyes slowly closed in eternal slumber. And her hand went limp in mine. And her beautiful soul finally went where it belonged…  
  
  
  
**cries**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**finally controls herself**  
  
Okay, okay... review or I wont post a happy ending (no not the alternate scene just a way to make this tory end bittersweet)  
  
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEview! 


	11. Wandering Child

Okay this is it, the moment you've all been waiting for- the ending. It's so sad... I thought I'd never see the day when my little ficcy is all grown up! **cries** -sniff- Anyway- BIG NOTE: The song at the end goes to the tune of 'Flattering child, you shall know me' or 'Too long you've wandered in winter' Just so you alllll know  
  
DISCLAIMER: If I owned the Phantom of the Opera, I'd be dead!  
  
Chapter Ten: Wandering Child…  
  
It was a bright sunny morning. The chill was heavy but the air was crisp, still, and fragrant. Snow covered the ground in the thinnest layer, simply making the grass shine.  
A single Asiatic lily is placed on the glistening ground. In front of that lily lays a stone that has an angel poised in eternal song. And on that stone there are several simple lines engraved into it:  
  
'Marguerite Brigitte Daae  
Born-  
October 31, 1882  
  
Died at age 14,  
December 24, 1896  
  
The true Angel of Music now lives in the heavens…'  
  
"She would have loved a day like this," Christine said quietly, breaking the silence. "She would have loved to sit in the garden and sing, claiming that she had to fill the air with music while the birds rested. Oh Erik, it shouldn't have ended like this… not like this. If anyone deserved a happy ending, it was she. I want her here; I want her beside me right now. I want to hold my baby… I want her safe in my arms, Erik… I miss her too much!" A sob stole her breath as her hands came up to her face.  
  
Erik folded her into his arms whispering, "I know". He wished as well that his only daughter had lived. He wished he had been there when she was born, when she said her first word, when she learned to walk, when she sang her first song… but it was not possible. All was said and done and could not be undone. He had the urge to cry so strongly then, but restrained his tears. He promised his daughter… 'You have to be happy… if not for each other, for me'. He heard his daughter's voice in his head as clearly as he heard her speak the words just yesterday.  
  
Yesterday… it was only yesterday…  
  
But yesterday could be forever away.  
  
"Do you think she's an angel now, Erik? Do you think she's watching us?" Christine said as she composed herself.  
  
"She was always an angel, Christine, but now, she has wings to prove it. She saw the light when all there was, was blinding darkness. She was the bridge that brought light" he gestured to her "a dark" he gestured to himself "together." He found that his eyes were welling with tears despite his attempts.  
  
They stood there for a while until Christine kneeled and kissed the cold stone whispering, "I love you, always and in dreams."  
  
She stood then and took Erik's hand before looking into his eyes. "Let's go home."  
  
They slowly walked away, the light crunch of snow in their wake.  
  
Unknown to them, two figures were watching. In front of the large cross above the family grave, two girls stood, holding hands. One girl was older than the other was, but they both had identical smiles on their face.  
  
The older girl looked at the younger, "Do you think she will be all right, Jillian? Do you think she'll be happy?"  
  
The young one looked up to her older sister, "Yes, Maggie, I think she will live happily ever after."  
  
Marguerite's smile widened as she watched her parent's walk away. The sun seemed to have burst to life, the two translucent figures disappearing in its embrace.  
  
A voice danced on the wind, mixing with the birds' voices:  
  
"Wandering child,  
Look no further.  
I'm always there to be found.  
Look at the places about you,  
I am all around!"  
  
The song slipped into the waiting ears of two mourning parents. The mother's eyes filled with wonder and the father's face lit up with a smile. They laughed and hugged knowing, at last, that all would be right. And when the time was right, they would stop the waltz of life, and join her.  
  
~END  
  
  
**claps and dries her eyes** YEA!!!! My first finished Phantom fiction! Okay… now to more important things…   
  
A big thank you and lots of love to…  
  
**takes a deep breath**  
  
Chapter 1-  
Sweet Thang aka Harrys Crush  
Mc Raver  
MADMAD  
Warm in pink fuzzy pants  
  
Chapter 2-  
Canadian Moose  
Chaotic Penguin  
Jan Mc Neville - thanks for the star, it's framed on my bedroom wall now.  
  
Chapter 3-  
Loper  
Raija Darknight  
Sweet Thang aka Harrys Crush  
Selenity Potter  
  
Chapter 4-  
Mehg  
The Devil's Advocate  
Loper  
MADMAD  
Lady Euphrosyne Pan  
  
Chapter 5-  
Canadian Moose  
Sweet Thang aka Harrys Crush  
Loper  
MADMAD  
  
**gasps for breath, then continues**  
  
Chapter 6-  
MAD MAD  
  
Chapter 7-  
Sweet Thang aka Harrys Crush  
MADMAD  
Dawn Moon  
Aries Solar  
  
Chapter 8-  
Aries Solar  
Alexis  
Sweet Thang aka Harry's Crush  
Dawn Moon  
Gremlin Raven  
Azure  
Phantomgurl33  
Raydias  
  
Chapter 9-  
SS/Destiny Daae  
MADMAD  
Megan de Chagny  
Hadsufanni  
Phantomgurl33  
Diana  
Aries Solar  
Dawn Moon  
  
Chapter 10-  
Phantomgurl33  
MADMAD  
SS/Destiny Daae  
Aries Solar  
  
**sucks in a breath of relief** Woo, I'm glad that's over. By the way, if I spelled your name wrong, I'm very, very sorry.  
  
NOW FOR THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR…  
  
The award for the best reviewer goes to…  
  
**MADMAD jumps out of her seat in preparation**  
  
MAD! I know you in real life! And yes I have one… I heard you gasp in shock!! Anyway, Madddddddd-  
I gave you your alternate prize anyway…  
  
MAD- OOOOOOOOOOOoooooooh yeah! **takes out skull stick** I have it with me!  
  
CS- That wasn't smart Mad!  
  
Erik- MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD! Give me back my stick!  
  
MAD- EEEeeek! **runs**  
  
Erik- **growls and chases after her**  
  
CS- **hits her head in frustration while she watches her two friends running around in circles about each other** Annnnnnnnnyway… as I was saying!  
  
The award for the best reviewer goes to…  
  
**opens envelope**  
  
SWEET THANG AKA HARRYS CRUSH!  
  
**hands her an award that has a hand made cast of Erik's mask on it, signed by Erik in his trademark red ink**  
  
Congrats and thanx- you deserve it!  
  
Peach dreams, coffee ice cream scoops, and phantom roses to you…  
  
Ta-ta,  
C  
  
  
  
  
…for now… 


End file.
